


slipping into place

by stilinskitrash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Petting, Not Canon Compliant, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Post-Season/Series 02, Pregnancy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, basically Clarke doesn't leave in the S2 finale, grounders made them do it but instead it's Abby Griffin LMAO, raven reyes is a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: Peace with the Grounders has been achieved. The Mountain Men defeated. Life for Camp Jaha has reached a new equilibrium; a way of life that means not being frightened for their lives every moment. But as the repercussions of their losses during the war begins to affect the population, Abby Griffin comes up with a program she thinks will solve everything.Or, the one where they have to implicate a re-population program on the ground to ensure the future of the sky people. Don't think about it too much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing and rewriting this for so. long. that I just want what I have so far OUT THERE so I can get a grasp of whether it's worth continuing. Essentially about 9 small chapters here, so a second update may not be for a while but if people are into this there will definitely be one (I finish college in a week).  
> I'm assuming based on what I have planned and what I've already written that there will be 4 parts all around the same size, but don't hold me to that.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! This all takes place post S2. Completely non compliant to S3 and after lol.

“Please, repeat that. I'm not sure I heard correctly.”

Clarke felt dumbfounded. Was this a dream? Her mother, acting as chancellor, with Kane sat adjacent to her, was clutching a list of rules for Camp Jaha. A new list of constraints. Old habits die hard. The remnants of the hundred hadn’t been allowed into the “council” meeting that had lasted a little over two hours, but Clarke and Bellamy were now being briefed, as the identified leaders of the hundred.

“Who decided this?” Bellamy sat beside her, his jaw set in a hard line as he refused to break eye contact with Kane.

“We know it'll shock some at first, but it's a necessary measure to ensure our survival-”

“Like hell it is.” Bellamy fired back, his head shaking with the same disbelief Clarke was frozen with.

Her mother continued with her proposal of the first rule, “there are relaxations in the program, it’s not as bad as it sounds. Everyone will be given a list of 10 compatible partners for copulation, and–”

Bellamy shot out a spiteful laugh, shooting a look at Clarke. “Oh, great, a fuck list.”

“Mom, you _can't_ believe this is the way. People will make children of their own accord. We shouldn't be worrying about repopulation. We should be worrying about our resources and continuing the peace.” Clarke’s brow furrowed. How had other members of sky kru agreed to this?

Abby shook her head, “we can't be sure of that. We need to do this to _ensure_ a future. It’s been nearly two years since Mount Weather, and our population is slowly in decline. Citizens aged between 20 and 30 will be enrolled in the program, starting from next week. Hopefully the program will be rolled out for what we predict will be 10 years, which will help to create a stable population. Matches have been calculated based on family and medical history to ensure a healthy future.”

Her stomach turned – she was 20 in only a month. Panicking, her leg nervously twitched under the table, her breathing unsteady. A cold hand fell over her knee, making her flinch, and Clarke followed it to uneasily Bellamy. He wasn't looking at her, but the gesture had intended to be calming. It was a _them_ thing, to be there for each other in those smaller ways, to reassure one another. Mount Weather had changed everything, it had left Clarke with more bad thoughts than good, and more scars on her heart than before. Bellamy understood.

“Not everyone will agree to this.” He practically growled, his hand tensing.

Abby’s mouth pulled into a tight smile. “No, which is why we will have to enforce it. We can offer more rations to those who agree the program, better jobs, better housing. We’ll give people an incentive to comply.”

“ _Bribery_.” Clarke scowled.

“Incentive.” Kane repeated, giving Clarke a pleading look.

She was eventually left unheard and angry. They barrelled on with the rest of the new laws, most of which _did_ made sense, or had been in action on the Ark. Her body tensed up the more she thought about her friends being subject to this new repopulation program with set partners, but Bellamy’s steady hand was there to hold her gently in place. Causing a scene would not help.

She burst from the tent after they concluded, storming back to her home, suddenly _so_ grateful she no longer shared with her mom. They'd begun setting up more permanent structures, and Clarke currently lived in a house halfway to being converted into a building with four walls, a functioning door and windows. Maybe even a toilet, if she was lucky.

Bellamy was hot on her heels, not bothering to knock. He never did.

“Clarke,” just her name on his lips sparked her up again.

“It's not fair, Bellamy.” She dragged her hands through her hair, trying not to tear it out. “We should get to choose these things. We should get to choose who we have kids with. Who we cohabit with. It's not their decision–”

“Hey, hey,” he pushed closer towards her, stopping a metre away, “just because we may have to have kids with someone we don't know, doesn't mean we have to marry them. That wasn't in the rules. We’re basically… using them. For lack of a better word.”

“It's sick.” She cursed, resorting to distressed pacing. “It's _my_ body.”

Bellamy hesitated, a suggestion on his mind he was uncertain if he should speak. “Maybe… maybe you're–”

“Infertile.” She beat him to it. “No, I’m not. We got tested on the Ark when they added the birth control implants. I’m completely fertile, ready for fertilisation.” Sarcasm laced her tone, and she laughed, short and bitter.

He cringed, running a hand over his face. “Don't put it like that.”

“But that's what it is, isn't it? Fertilisation. For the sake of the sky people. God, imagine what the grounders would think of this.”

Something in Bellamy’s eyes switched. He took a step back, knitting his brow. “We’re _not_ grounders, Clarke. I know it’s not ideal – _I_ don’t agree with it either – but Abby and Kane are _trying_. I get what you're saying, but you need to calm down." "

"Even down here, after all that war, we're still living like prisoners on the Ark. How can you defend that?"

Bellamy's face fell momentarily. "Well, maybe you should've just gone with Lexa when you had the chance.”

He knew he shouldn't have gone there; she saw it in his face as the words fell from his mouth. It was too late.

“Fuck you.” She whispered venomously. “Get the hell out of my tent.”

His feet stuck to the floor for a moment, looking as if he were going to say something more. The pained expression of regret written across his face was nothing compared to the ache Clarke felt in her chest. To hear that shit from _him_ hurt more than she imagined it should.

“I said get _out_ , Bellamy.” She could feel the prickle of tears in her eyes. Once the flow started, she wouldn't be able to stop for a while, as emotions from the day spilled out of her in wracked breaths. He left without another word.

 

The announcement of the repopulation program was met with a largely mixed response. Those of which it didn’t affect either unanimously agreed (the over 30s), or were outraged and confused (the under 20s). The in between was a compilation of reluctant acceptance. There were no riots; Kane and Abby had rallied enough respect and support during their time on the ground for most of sky kru to put their trust in them. Clarke’s fist clenched so tight that her fingernails carved moon crested cuts in her palm.

It worked like this; when you were 20, you were handed the list of suitable sexual partners. They’d be people within your age range, generally. Sometimes they’d have the names on of people under 20 - but over 18 - as they understood that some people may have partners under 20 even if they were of age for the program. If this was the case, they were allowed to wait until that person was also 20 to copulate. If someone was on your list, you were on theirs. New lists could be generated if the options were that dire, but choices were limited. It was all very calculated, devoid of passion or love.

After the incident with Bellamy, he’d kept his distance from Clarke, for maybe the first time since they’d returned from Mount Weather. At meal times they’d sit in their usual close knit group, but he’d sit a few seats away. When there was an expedition for supplies, he wouldn’t volunteer if Clarke already had. She felt the absence, wondering if she’d have to be the one to make the first move. But then she remembered what he’d said, and thought _fuck that_.

“What did Bellamy do now?” Raven sang with a raised brow as she entered the infirmary, where Clarke was just tidying up after dealing with a patient.

“Nothing.” She muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Her friend let out a harsh laugh, “as if. You’ve been avoiding each other like the plague. It’s not… it’s not to do with the new program is it?”

Clarke’s head snapped up to meet her incredulously, “why would you think that?” She said a little defensively. “We’re fine. We just had a little disagreement.”

Raven sighed, taking a chair and sitting down beside Clarke. She lifted her numb leg up to rest on the blondes knees, and Clarke didn’t mind.

“You have this partnership that’s unlike any other here at camp. Obviously not as good as _ours_ ,” she smiled, “but it’s so strong. You’ve both been through so much. He’d probably kill me if he heard me say this, but he needs you.”

She would’ve scoffed if a part of her didn’t wish it was true.

“It’ll be fine.” Clarke flashed Raven a faux grin, “we’ll work it out. We’ve been through worse, right?” She playfully punched her shoulder, evoking more smiles from the other girl. “But what about you? How are you feeling about the program?”

Raven made a noncommittal sound, shrugging. “I guess I understand where Abby’s coming from. If we’re not integrating with the grounders, we’re gonna end up, you know, with each other. It’s just hurrying along the inevitable.”

“You could put it that way, yeah.”

“But I swear,” she laughed, “if some unfortunate looking fuckers are on my list, I will not be happy. Although I’m sure my genes will be stronger than theirs. My offspring are destined to have my good looks.”

Clarke felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “You’re full of it, Reyes.”

“As if you’d have it any other way.”

  


Clarke read the list for today’s expedition; his name was at the top. She glanced around before scrawling her own name at the bottom, determined to break the silence with him that was gnawing away at her. It had been two weeks since Abby had told the two about the program – three weeks were left until her 20th birthday.

They’d been rolling out the program, but her friends were yet to comply. Monty, Harper and Jasper were still 19 anyway, Raven was due to be delivered her list any day now. Octavia was 18, and god knows she would never agree with the program. Clarke wouldn't have been surprised if she ran away with Lincoln before her 20th birthday. An exception in the rule meant that Miller, who wasn’t into women, was exempt from the program. They weren’t _that_ cruel. She wondered if Bellamy had been given his yet, and if he’d share it with her when he did. Who was right for Bellamy Blake? She resented the thought that _no one was_ , he was her–

Her _what_ exactly? Her best friend (she hoped), her partner, her ally.

At 12:00 she shrugged on a backpack and made for the rendezvous point at the main gate.

He was already there, talking to another member of the expedition team. Feeling head strong, she approached and stopped just short of him, entering the conversation.

“Ready?” She asked, looking between them.

The guy he’d been talking to looked taken aback, “well, yeah. If that’s the last of us.” Bellamy looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read, but she shook it off.

Clarke nodded resolutely, “yep. Let’s move out!” She took the lead, knowing the normal expedition route like the back of her hand by now. They stayed away from the grounder camps they’d mapped already, sticking close to the nearest river. The group behind her babbled aimless chit chat, small talk that Clarke tuned out.

She ducked under a fallen branch, and rose back up to find herself beside a familiar figure who’d suddenly sidled up next to her.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

They walked a few feet in silence.

“Clarke, I–”

“I’m over it.”

Bellamy stared at her as they went, growing closer to their destination. Today’s expedition goal was to map out the land further than what they already knew, scoping the area for new resources or grounder camps. It was a long walk, maybe taking them 4 or 5 hours, but only if they were swift enough.

“I’m sorry, anyway.”

Clarke nodded. “And I forgive you.”

She could see the smallest of smiles creep onto his lips out of the corner of her eye. “My lunches have been pretty quiet without you there to pester me.”

“Pester you?” She scoffed disbelievingly, flashing him a raised eyebrow. “Anyway, _I’m_ not the one who ignored you for two weeks.”

“You didn’t need to. I could sense that you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Hmm. For a while, yeah.” Clarke shrugged honestly.

“But not anymore?”

“Not anymore.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, with Bellamy and Clarke walking side by side through the thick foliage as they had done a thousand times before. She could have exhaled a breath of relief at the sensation of balance being restored. How was it that easy? His cocky smirks and seemingly knowing eyes were both disconcerting and welcoming; he knew her well, and Clarke was caught between not knowing whether it was a good or a bad thing.

It couldn’t be true that love made you weak.

They relapsed into chatter, as if the time that had elapsed between them not speaking hadn't happened at all. _He needs you_ , Raven’s words rang in her ears.

 _I need him_ , her thoughts whispered.

 

 

Her nightmares had gotten worse over the past few months. Strangely, they'd actually increased as she'd finally come to terms with her actions at Mount Weather. She knew rationally that there was no point tearing herself up about the past, but the guilt still gnawed away at her. Most nights she'd wake in a cold sweat, bed covers tossed on the floor from squirming in her dreams.

She refused stubbornly to go to her mom for help, because Abby could never understand, and she felt even worse about putting her problems onto her friends who were dealing with their own grievances. It had taken Jasper months to even talk civilly to Clarke again.

Tonight's dreams were particularly nightmarish – burning images plagued her mind of Finn and what she did to relieve him of his suffering; Wells’ crumpled body;  her brains reimagining of the pain the mountain people suffered.

She bolted awake in bed, heaving ragged breaths and gripping her sheets so tight that her knuckles turned white. The thought of going back to sleep and returning to those thoughts pulled her out of bed, and she shrugged on some warmer clothes before going out for some air.

The main campsite was near to most of the living areas, and Clarke assumed it was late enough to be empty. She could sit alone for a while, recollect herself and take a moment to calm the hell down.

Except she wasn't alone; a hunched figure sat warming themselves by the fire they'd started in the pit. She approached cautiously, taking a seat on the lightly dew soaked ground parallel to the figure. The flames illuminated their face, revealing none other than Bellamy Blake, deep in thought.

“Bellamy?”

His head shot up, distracted from whatever was captivating him. Clarke was slightly shocked he hadn’t noticed her arrival. He gave her a weakened smile, and she moved over to sit beside him.

“Can't sleep?” He asked as she lay her jacket down to sit on.

“Not really. I just… uh, get a lot of bad dreams.”

Bellamy nodded silently, eyes focused lazily on the fire. That's when she noticed the piece of paper in his hands, and she froze.

She didn't want to ask – she couldn't. But her gut was telling her that it was _his_ list.

“You and me both.” He muttered, folding the paper over and over again absently until it looked like it would just fall apart.

“Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we hadn't done what we did to get our people here?”

Her question caught him off guard; they didn't talk about Mount Weather anymore, not like they had a year ago. Not like they would when Clarke would seek him out to verbalise her guilt and thoughts and worries. Or when he’d let her fall asleep in his living quarters because it was the only way they’d both not have nightmares.

They'd tried desperately to push Mount Weather to the back of their minds, choosing to focus on the safety of their people rather than the awful truth of it all.

Bellamy hesitated, “yeah, I do. But it feels like years and years ago now.” He slipped the piece of paper into one of his pockets, and turned with a sudden determination to face her. “And I don't regret it. What we did; what we had to do, Clarke. You know that, and I know that you know that. You just need to accept it.” Slowly, one of his hands slipped on top of hers, and she looked down with a weak smile.

“Why are you out here so late?” She dared to ask, tilting her head back up to him. His eyes flitted between her and the fire restlessly.

“Just thinking. Why so nosey, princess?” Bellamy gave her a lopsided smile, his left eyebrow arching.

Clarke turned his hand over in hers, so their palms met and she could fold her fingers inbetween his. She hoped he saw it as another absent minded gesture, that he wasn’t reading into it the way her mind was daring itself to. “Just cause I trust you. And I hope you trust me.”

“Of course I do.” He didn't miss a beat, reassuring her with a squeeze of his hand. “There aren't many people I trust more. Hell, _anyone_ .” His eyes held sentiment she knew he wouldn't say aloud, and it made Clarke’s heartbeat race. That look was for _her_.

Just her.

“I should get back.” She decided, breaking away from his hold and brushing herself off. He nodded, and turned back to the fire. Clarke was reluctant to look behind her as she left, just to see if he was watching her go, because a part of her knew she’d feel a pang of pain if he wasn't.

She wasn’t sure why it ate away at her so bad, or more accurately, didn't want to think about why.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's birthday is fast approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So updates from here on may be slow, at least until I have more free time which should be in a week or two. But I'm a master procrastinator, so who knows?

****Clarke had specifically _not_ wanted a birthday party. She’d reminded her friends for months beforehand that she was more than happy to just hang out with them, drink some moonshine, reminisce and maybe even go down to the lakeshore. Clearly her endless hints had been overlooked, as she now sat to the side of her own birthday celebration; granted, clutching a cup of moonshine, but not exactly enjoying herself.

What Clarke felt most was dread. 20 meant enrollment into the program, and she willed and willed herself to forget about it for just tonight, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even place why it had gotten to her so much. Perhaps, she thought, a part of her wanted to do things the normal way. It was hard to admit that after all they’d been through, as having kids and starting families had been pushed to the back of their minds in place of _survival_.

“Clarke, come dance with us!” Jasper called from across the bonfire they’d lit that evening, twirling around with Harper and Monty, all of who were now far from sober. She shook her head and Jasper flashed her a frown, but carried on enjoying _her_ party.

Eventually, Clarke drifted off back to her cabin, and pulled out a book from her small collection at random. It was one of Bellamy’s, he’d lent it to her a few months ago, and for some reason the thought of that sentiment made her eyes tear up. _God, get a grip,_ he scolded herself. But Bellamy loved his books. He’d been collecting them since peace had been made with the Grounders, scouring the land at old bunkers and trading posts to build up his collection. He had a myriad of technical books, fiction, classics, non-fiction.

The one he’d lent her was the book of the Ancient Greek play Medea, a Greek tragedy about Medea, the wife of Jason, who leaves her for the princess of Corinth. Medea takes vengeance on Jason by killing Jason's new wife as well as their own children, after which she escapes to Athens to start a new life. Drastic, yes, as many Greek tragedies seemed to be, but Clarke was really enjoying it.

The thought of gushing over it with Bellamy was strangely exciting, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, daring her to be happy at the prospect.

“Clarke?” _speak of the devil, and he shall appear._

She hurried to move the book out of sight out of embarrassment, and stood up suddenly up as he entered her home.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you with everyone else? It’s your party.” he had his hands shoved in his pockets, a soft look of concern on his face. Even tonight, he wasn’t dressed that differently. He still wore dark colours, in the current variation of a loose navy shirt and black pants. He still looked good.

Raven had ushered Clarke into a tight, black party dress that one of sky crew who was able with textiles had fashioned for her birthday. Right now, she felt ridiculous and self conscious in it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something for fashion and not comfort and practicality.

Clarke shrugged, “nothing, I just...I’m just not great at parties. Well, specifically birthday parties.”

Bellamy pursed his lips, “Ah.” He took a seat on the edge of her bed, which was entirely too makeshift and piled with furs to make it comfortable.

“Did you want something?” she asked, brows raised, arms folded.

He mocked her nonchalant shrug with a smile. “Parties aren’t really my thing either. But you do deserve a night off.”

She sighed, shuffling over to sit beside him, hyper aware of the space - or lack of - she was setting between them. “This just isn’t how I’d like to be having fun right now, you know?"

A silence fell, and Clarke watched Bellamy’s gaze find the copy of Medea clumsily hidden amongst her furs. His smile shifted to a smirk, as heat crept into her cheeks.

“How _would_ you like to be having fun right now?” It sounded like vaguely like a proposal. His eyes _read challenge me_ , and Clarke resisted squirming. He wasn’t really suggesting what she thought he was, was he? Her lips parted and she followed his eyes to her mouth, all speech getting caught in her throat. Clarke suddenly felt too warm, Bellamy’s presence too conflictingly tempting and comforting.

Clarke’s gaze floated down hesitantly to Bellamy’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and it was all the invitation she needed. It was as if her resolve had been hanging by a thread. She met his mouth roughly, hands wrapping around him to close the distance she’d previously set. His lips were chapped from the hours working in the heat, but he tasted better than she could have hoped, his own palms moving to pinch and grope at the fabric over the skin on her waist..

 _It’s Bellamy_ , her common sense screamed, battling against her impulsive thoughts, which wouldn’t stop reminding her of how goddamn attractive he was; how good his hands felt on her body and his lips against hers. It felt like he already knew his way around her. The sound of the party was suddenly a quiet hum, Clarke engrossed in the moment as Bellamy’s mouth travelled down her neck, intent on leaving hickies for the morning.

“Is this okay?” He murmured, lips fluttering against her collarbone.

She nodded, rolling her neck back when he tenderly palmed the underside of one of her breasts.

“Need this off,” He mumbled, tugging at the hem of her dress. She nodded eagerly against him, working to wriggle herself out of it, his hands guiding her and taking in every chance to touch her.

Her hands were raking through his hair, and he pressed another kiss to her lips, his actions now both passionate and careful. Once she was free of the dress, he took the time to admire the bare skin revealed. All she wanted was him pulled back flush against her, but he seemed wrapped up in staring at her in full.

“You’re beautiful, Clarke.” His eyes flitted to hers, holding them with a look that made her cheeks burn.

“Just kiss me.” She pleaded, dismissing the anxious feeling that Bellamy’s praise and affection was stirring. All of her wanted to believe they weren’t ruining a friendship by doing this, it was harmless, but he was making it goddamn hard by looking at her like _that_. It was enough to give her chills.

He dipped back down to her stomach and exposed chest, planting kisses as Clarke tried to stifle moans. Her body writhed with pleasure as Bellamy explored her, finding her most sensitive spots. She knew he was sexually experienced from the train of girls who'd come and gone from his tent in their first few weeks on Earth, and figured he must have been doing _something_ right for them to keep coming back.

Not that she'd cared about the girls Bellamy slept with. Not that she'd ever thought about how he was in bed.

His mouth reached the hem of her underwear, lips edging towards the inner side of her thighs.

"Let me, please," he mumbled against her skin, his fingers sliding down her waist to tug at the material. Clarke squirmed, managing a soft _mhm_ , reclining back as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric tenderly. His actions were slow, dragging the pleasure out and building it up so the heat pooled in Clarke's stomach, and she clutched tight to Bellamy's curls as she ached for release.

An explosion from outside the cabin startled Clarke, taking Bellamy aback. His movements froze, pulling away from her with concern as Clarke's body stiffened for all the wrong reasons.

“It's just fireworks.” He reassured her, his other hand moving to cup her cheek softly. “Monty told me he and Jasper had some saved they'd found a while back. It's okay.”

Clarke’s nerves were on edge for a different reason now, the unsettling memories of their war with the mountain men and grounders replacing the sensation of pleasure. It was almost suffocating, as if the noise had triggered something Clarke thought she was over. Bellamy shifted off of her, rolling to lie propped up on his elbow by her side.

“Clarke,” (did he have to be so goddamn understanding?) “we can stop. What do you need?”

Her eyes shot to his anxiously, and were met with such a kindness she’d only seen a handful of times. It wasn’t your standard kind and caring look; she was sure it was reserved just for her.

“I-I don’t know. Can we just lie for a while?”

Bellamy nodded, and Clarke pulled his arm around her waist as she settled into the furs, her back to him. His warmth was intoxicatingly comforting, a constant reassurance every time a loud noise from the party outside made her flinch with panic.

What a birthday her 20th had been.

Two years ago, she wasn’t even sure she’d make it to her 20s, let alone have found a home on the ground. A home no longer ravaged by violence; a home surrounded by her friends, her new family. A home where survival was no longer driven by fear, but a want to _experience_.

And, perhaps, a home in Bellamy.

She hadn’t felt so naïvely optimistic in years.

 

  


 

He wasn’t there in the morning. It was a conflicting feeling.

She wasn’t upset; he’d been there for her, Bellamy didn’t owe her anything. But her mind nagged at her; why wouldn’t he stay? Was it too weird? Had they ruined their friendship?

She wasn’t going to be mad at him. She wasn't.

The camp site looked nearly as bad as it had after a grounder attack. There was a _lot_ of cleaning up to do, which was a perfect distraction from the memories of last night. Her friends looked like hell, Monty and Jasper both nursing particularly bad hangovers. Harper had a burn on her forearm from (drunkenly) falling too close to the bonfire, and Raven was snapping at everyone who interrupted her at work..

“Have fun last night?” The mechanic asked absently as Clarke came in, whilst messing around with a piece of gear.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely.” She nodded pretty unconvincingly, earning a dubious raised brow from Raven. Clarke could hardly muster the energy to sound convincing.

“I hardly saw you - but sure. Where were you? Please tell me you weren’t sleeping. Or self-isolating. The acceptable answers are: ‘I got so drunk I passed out’, ‘I was getting laid’, or- wait, no. That’s pretty much it.”

Clarke pursed her lips, “if I tell you, you promise you won’t overreact?”

Raven looked faux offended, holding her free hand over her heart like she was about to make a pledge.

“I was with Bellamy,” the words tumbled out before she could think about regretting saying them, “we were together. In my cabin. Together. In-”

“Oh my god, Clarke, I get it.” Raven laughed, dropping what she was working on and walking over to her. “And?”

She frowned, “and what? You’re not...shocked? Confused?

Her friends hands fell on either side of her arms, smiling as she sighed and rolled her eyes at Clarke. “Are you okay with it? You and Bellamy?”

“I...I think so. It didn’t _feel_ wrong. It felt like-”

“Pieces slipping into place?” Raven offered, and Clarke hated the smile written on her face, as if Raven knew things Clarke didn't. It was so goddamn clichéd.

“I think it was a one time thing. He wasn't there when I woke up this morning.” She countered, trying to sound casual about it..

Raven’s face turned serious, her eyebrows narrowing. “ _Clarke_ , he wouldn't do that to you. After all you've been through together, you're not another notch on his bedpost. You _know_ you mean more than that to him. He respects you.”

They were the words she's been repeating to herself all morning, half knowing them to be true.

“Clarke,” Raven barrelled on, focusing her eyes on Clarke’s, “if you don't want it to happen again, he’ll respect that too.”

 _She's right, she's right, she's right._ But Clarke wasn't sure that she never wanted it to happen again. She let herself exhale, shoulders relaxing when she hadn't realised she’d been so tense. Raven’s eyes shifted suddenly and anxiously to the floor, stepping out of her reach.

“And,” she brunette sighed, exhuming forced positivity, “I got my list today.” They'd pushed back Raven’s entry into the repopulation program due to her leg acting up again, a courtesy granted to her due to her close relationship with Abby. But she'd been cleared as fit again, and Clarke remembered guiltily that Raven had nonchalantly brought it up a few days ago. The anxiety about her own list had made it slip her mind.

Clarke wasn't sure what her best friend wanted her to say. Raven had never expressed a strong opinion for or against the program; had hardly mentioned it unless Clarke did, even.

“I think I'm okay with it. I-I never really saw myself as someone who would raise a kid. Sure, I joked about it with-” she paused, brow furrowing. _Finn_ , the heavy silence spoke between them. “But so much has changed. Maybe a little critter running about might be… nice.”

She watched Raven silently debate with herself, and reached out a hand tenderly, interlinking their fingers.

“You know Wick? Who works here too? He's on it. My list. That's _totally_ Abby’s doing.” She laughed airily, “and that guy, Thomas, who I think Jasper is friends with. He seems like a guy I could stand for more than a week.”

Clarke nodded.

“And…” Raven’s gaze turned to something resembling shame. Her lips twitched as she fiddled with Clarke’s fingers in her hand. “And Bellamy, Clarke. Bellamy was on my list.”

 _Woah_.

The air felt momentarily knocked out of her. She gripped Raven’s hand tighter.

“Oh,” fell softly from her lips.

“But, Clarke, I’m really not interested. I mean, admittedly I _have_ been there, and he’s just- he’s not-” Raven sighed exasperatedly, searching for the right words. Clarke was listening detachedly, more lost in the reality that, yes, people had Bellamy on their lists. People in the camp would be considering Bellamy as the father of their child. _Why did she care? What right did she have?_

“Clarke,” Raven’s free hand cupped the blonde’s cheek, focusing her attention, “he’s yours.” A rushed “ _don't kill me for saying that_ ” followed.

Her hand went slack in Raven’s — her heart _ached_.

 

  


She found Bellamy working later that evening, a vague sense of determination lodged in her mind and a wildly uncomposed plan of what to say.

Abby had reminded her _twice_ between breakfast and dinner that Clarke was receiving her partner list tomorrow morning. She’d had no idea what her mother was trying to achieve, and chose to ignore the glint of concern in her eyes. _As if she really cared_ , Clarke thought spitefully. What did she want with a grandchild whose father Clarke wouldn’t even love? Didn’t have a real relationship with? Whose father may not even love his daughter?

Bellamy was pushing stray strands out of hair out of his eyes, his sleeves rolled all the way up so his biceps were on display, in all their glory. Just last night they’d held Clarke in a tight embrace.

“Hey, princess.” He greeted, not looking up to see her. “Everything okay?”

Clarke worried her lower lip, wringing her hands. “Yeah. Yeah. Can we- can we talk?”

An agonising pause followed. Bellamy dropped what he was doing, turning to give her his full attention. “Sure.” He nodded, with a slight air of unease.

He followed her to the edge of the camp in silence, until she dug her feet in before tumbling over the edge of the boundary. The gate the camp had constructed loomed beside them like an oppressive barrier between the outside world and the laws and rules of Camp Jaha.

“I’m just gonna cut straight to the chase-”

“I’m sorry about last night.” He said suddenly.

“Who’s on your list?” The words tumbled over her lips just as he spoke, mingling their confessions.

“Wait, what?”

“What?”

The two of them stood awkwardly, mouths parted in unspoken question. Bellamy shifted his weight, one brow raised.

“Why’d you wanna know that?” He asked.

“Why are you sorry?” Clarke countered, holding her hands on her hips.

Bellamy scrubbed his face with his palm, squeezing his eyes shut as if in hard thought. “I guess, I figured that I may have taken advantage of your vulnerability last night.”

“I’m a big girl, Bell,” she laughed harshly, “fuck you.” She didn't really mean it.

“I _know_ , Clarke.” He seemed unphased by her cursing. “I’m sorry. I am.” It no longer felt like he was apologising for what he originally was, or at least she suspected so. “Why are you interested in my list?”

Clarke’s cheeks felt flushed in defence. “Just, you never talk about. I wondered why. I know you have it. Is it _that_ bad?”

“So you’re nosey?”

She snorted, “no. I’m allowed to be interested in your life, as your friend.”

“You’re jealous?” He tried again, a smirk creeping its way onto his face.

“ _No_ .” ( _Maybe_.)

They’d reached another stalemate.

Bellamy turned back to his work momentarily, and Clarke watched on, grasping for the words to say to fix this. If they left this discussion where it was, it would fester into something bigger, and angrier. She’d explode in confession or implode with festering silence.

“It’s not that bad.” He finally spoke. “It’s just surreal.”

She stepped towards him tenderly. “What is?”

“My list.”

Clarke’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

 _My turn I guess_.

“You didn’t take advantage of me, at all. I-I, _god_ — I wanted what happened between us. I wanted it to happen.”

She could see the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile even though he was turned half away from her, and it was infectious. In a few abrupt strides he was in front of her, willing to properly confront the baggage between them.

“I left to do an early morning patrol. I didn’t run away. I’m sorry for that, too.”

They were suddenly incredibly close, every sentence letting them further beyond the wall they both naturally forced up.

“Don’t be. I kind of needed it to think. I wasn't really mad.”

Another silence. Bellamy had a smudge of dirt on his left temple, and Clarke’s fingers itched to wipe it away; to feel the skin to skin contact. There was such undeniable, unexplainable comfort in their touch. Ever since Mount Weather, the simplest hand hold or hug instilled calm and support.

She dared herself to push him further. “Have you decided? Who you want to choose from the list?”

He didn't bother to hide his hesitation to answer, his forehead creasing with confliction.  “I have an idea.”

“Who?”

“That’s private.” She didn't believe his smile.

“You’re a tease.”

“Don't you know it.” The flirtatious Bellamy was one Clarke knew well as the self-defensive Bellamy. The I-won’t-give-you-an-honest-answer Bellamy. “Seriously, Clarke. If you need anything, you know where my cabin is.” It wasn't as suggestive as it may have sounded in the usual Bellamy-esque way or context. His eyes were soft, and he was so goddamn close.

Clarke nodded slowly. “I know where your cabin is.” She repeated, backing away towards the camp, her eyes not leaving his form even when he'd turned away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on tumblr!! stacygwehn.tumblr.com  
> Kudos and comments fuel me <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back with another chapter finally! and she's thicc  
> warnings for light smut which i am not very good at writing so i apologise just dont think about it too much

Her mother’s cabin had never seemed so daunting.

In the past few weeks, it wasn’t like she’d made many trips to it. Hell, even in the past few months her communication with Abby had been deteriorating. But she had to do this; she’d rather receive the list from her own mother than some random guard. It didn’t mean she felt any less frightened.

She rapped her fist against the wood, avoiding the eyes of all the passersby. Logically, Clarke knew that none of them were aware of what she was about to receive, but paranoia and anxiety were making her feel like everyone was staring at her.

Finally, Abby swung open the door, a soft and infuriatingly understanding smile painted on her face. It made Clarke’s blood boil. This was not a moment deserving of happiness.

“C’mon in, Clarke,” her mom held out her arm, letting Clarke in first. 

The place was tidy, far tidier than Clarke’s place, but still a self contained single, large room. It smelt like she’d just cooked something  _ really  _ good. She ignored the pang of hunger in her stomach (her nerves had distracted her from having any breakfast) which regardless was abruptly replaced by her reaction to noticing a few of Kane’s shirts folded on top of her mom’s wardrobe. She’d known that Abby and Kane had been seeing each other for a good few months, but seeing his belongings in her mom’s space hinted that perhaps it was more than a casual hookup.

Romance and relationships weren’t exactly something Clarke discussed with her mom anymore. This posed a problem, considering the nature of what she was about to receive.

“Tea? A drink?” Abby offered, swinging by the makeshift stove she had set up where a kettle was already boiling.

Clarke shook her head, her lips dry and pulled tight.

Abby sighed and poured herself a drink of whatever she’d been boiling, before setting it down on the table beside where Clarke had come to stand. She moved towards a box beside her bed and furs, rifling around before retrieving an A4 slip of paper.

Her heartbeat felt like it was speeding up, accelerating at a rate that had her convinced she could have a heart attack. 

She didn't want this.

“How long have you had that?” she swallowed thickly, refraining from a grimace and watching helplessly as Abby slowly paced towards her.

“Not that long. I… I spent a while compiling it for you, Clarke.” Her mom’s eyes searched hers pleadingly. “I know you hate this. I’m just thankful you’re here and there was no kicking and screaming. But I promise, I’m trying to do right by you.” She held out the folded paper.

Clarke couldn’t help but stare at it, noticing the faint, unreadable imprints of the names on the other side. 

“You’ll forgive me.” Abby nodded, meaning it as a promise as she clasped Clarke’s hands around the list. “I love you.”

The paper felt cold, or maybe Clarke was just imagining that. Maybe she was projecting. The piece of paper didn’t feel so menacing whilst she was holding it, folded so she didn’t have to confront its contents. Abby reached forwards, crushing Clarke’s arms against her chest as she enveloped her in a hug that Clarke was almost too out of it to reciprocate. Noticeably too late, her arms folded around her mom stiffly.

Abby pushed away, her eyes red but tearless. She retrieved her drink and downed some of it as a distraction whilst Clarke’s eyes fixed back on the paper. Not really looking where she was going, Clarke left the cabin without another word and tried to trail back to her own home.

The list was finally in her hands; 10 bullet point, 10 names. 10 strangers. 10 fertile bodies to fuck.

She made it back to her cabin and collapsed in on herself on her bed.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she opened the list and read without recognition. Some of the names were familiar, but  _ all _ of them hurt. Every name conjured an image of a face she’d have to look into. Of a similar looking face she might end up birthing and living with for years.

 

  1. Symon Campbell
  2. Lonnie White
  3. Jasper Jordan



 

God, Jasper? That was definitely a  _ no _ . Not that he wasn’t objectively attractive, but Jasper was  _ just _ her friend. It had taken long enough to get him back on speaking terms with her. She wouldn’t jeopardise that. It figured that maybe Abby had slipped him in because she thought maybe Clarke would want to choose one of her friends, which was a sort of thoughtful but creepy gesture. The list continued.

 

  1. Martin Cooper
  2. Eddy Lopez
  3. Thomas Allan
  4. Remy Jenkins
  5. Keoni Hill
  6. Emmanuel Sanchez



 

Her gaze reluctantly met the end of the list, hope crumbling, and she tried to stifle a sudden choked sob as she slapped a surprised hand to her mouth upon reading it.

 

  1. Bellamy Blake



 

Clarke’s heart threatened to explode in her chest as a wave of incomprehensible emotions washed over her.  _ How?  _ How had he made it onto her list? But Abby-

That meant Clarke was on his. 

She felt dizzy with panic and worry. Clarke was going to  _ have _ to pick him. She’d have to, right? The thought of it being any of the other names on the list whose child she'd have to carry for 9 months made her stomach lurch sickeningly. Not that the thought of carrying  _ Bellamy’s _ child helped calm her much more. 

But he might not want her. 

His list may have held the name of someone he liked, that he'd never mentioned to her. Why  _ would _ he mention anything of his love life to her? Just because they'd had a moment on her birthday, that they’d acknowledged the quietly simmering sexual chemistry between them, it didn’t mean it was  _ that  _ deep. She’d seen him at meal times with various women, most notably a pretty brunette called Gina in recent. Gina could be on his list, too. He might’ve recently set his mind on choosing Gina, a conclusion Clarke jumped to from the fact he’d never mentioned his list to her. Not even when she’d asked. Perhaps it was all because he was sparing her feelings.

Clarke furiously wiped away the tears that only made her more frustrated.  _ Stop crying. _

Or worse, he wouldn't want her like  _ this _ . He wouldn’t want them to be together by default. Clarke wasn’t sure she wanted that, either.

She’d end up carrying the child of “ _ Martin Cooper”,  _ or “ _ Thomas Allen” _ , or some other man from sky kru she barely knew, for 9  _ agonising _ months. Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _ Stop. Crying. _

The paper was becoming uneven in texture from the fat tears spilling onto the page, her hands holding a tight grip on the edges and scrunching them up until they began to tear. This was so cruel, and she couldn’t decide if having Bellamy on her list made everything harder or easier. It sure as hell made things more complicated.

She felt the ghost of Raven’s palm against her cheek, a cold memory that gave her chills. “ _ He’s yours _ ,” the memory echoed, and  _ god _ , Clarke wished that were true.

The need to feel the quiet and the solitude of the grass and the trees and the clean air around her dragged her to her feet. Any moment longer in her cabin thinking about what the  _ fuck  _ she was going to do would drive her crazy.

Clarke burst out of her own door and beelined for the woodlands, the piece of paper discarded on her cabin floor.

 

  
  


 

She’d thought she was alone. Or at least she had been for the past hour or so she’d been deep in the forest, lost in her thoughts and in panic. Clarke had walked and walked until her body had found the right place to collapse, her knees buckling as she hit the soft fallen foliage and soil.

Doubt bled into her thoughts, and Clarke found herself questioning everything she felt a vague sense of certainty towards. Everything conflicted; her feelings about the list, her feelings about Bellamy, Bellamy’s feelings about her. Would it have been easier if he wasn’t on her list? Was what happened on her birthday spurred by his list, and not genuine feelings for her? How the hell did she feel for Bellamy?

_ I need him _ , the same, quiet voice whispered to her.

That’s when the crack of a twig snapped Clarke out of her daze.

“Clarke?”  _ of course it was him. Of course, of course, of course _ .

She sniffed, no longer crying but still suffering from a runny nose and bloodshot eyes. Facing Bellamy right now was too hard to bear, so she stayed where she was with her eyes trained on the bush in front of her.

“Clarke, please. I– We need to– ”

“You knew.” her voice was so small she wasn’t sure she’d even managed to speak at all. Clarke cleared her throat and spoke louder, “all this time, you knew. And never said anything.”

Bellamy was only a few feet away, but Clarke’s back was still to him.

“I know.” he confessed, his tone laced with frustration and sadness. “Would you have wanted me to tell you?” It wasn’t accusatory, he sounded so genuine that Clarke was battling the urge to turn to him and gage his emotions rather than stay facing away.

She rubbed the sleeve of her jacket against her nose. “I don’t  _ want  _ this.”

The quiet they lapsed into ate away at her, Bellamy unmoving in her peripheral. Eventually, when their silence seemed like it would never end, Bellamy stepped towards Clarke until he was determinedly in front of her, crouching down to be at her level.

“You don’t want me, or you don’t want any of this?” 

She couldn’t shake his eyes off of her, searching for the answer that Clarke was scared she already knew.

That was the golden question, wasn’t it? The question that her mind was waging war on her against, pushing and pulling with self doubt and worry.

The temptation of him being right  _ there  _ was overwhelming, and Clarke finally looked up. His dark stare met her with tenderness and vulnerability and the pang of sadness Clarke felt turned her stomach. It shouldn’t be like  _ this _ . 

_ It shouldn’t be like this _ .

She was looking at the man who’d saved her life – and her his – countless times. She’d watched him grow from “whatever the hell we want” to not letting her make the most difficult choice of her life alone. He was woven into every Earth memory she had, for better or for worse, making a life without him in it seem unfathomable.

A life with him was what she wanted. That, she was certain of.

Clarke pushed herself up clumsily, stumbling at the sudden weight on her feet after being sat so long, and practically fell onto Bellamy. Her lips latched desperately onto his, knocking him back with the force of her propelling herself forward. He caught them before they could topple over, enveloping her in his arms as he deepened the kiss with their increased proximity. 

It was messy; noses bumping and hands pulling on fabric as they stumbled unevenly until Clarke’s back was flat against the trunk of a tree. Bellamy pulled away and Clarke found herself chasing his kiss, but his hands were firm on her shoulders, holding her back.

“Does this mean–?”

Clarke was already breathless, her eyes flitting restlessly between Bellamy’s eyes and mouth.

“Yes, yes. I want you, Bell. We can–  we can figure out the rest later.” Her consent was enough to drag him back to her, enveloping her in his touch with her pinned against the tree.

Their hands continued to roam, Bellamy slipping his cold palms under Clarke’s shirt where his thumbs traced the bumps of her ribs and Clarke’s fists tangled in his hair. He leaned down further to press slow, hard kisses to her shoulders and collarbones, revelling in the taste of her skin. 

One of his legs slipped between her own, upping the friction. With a hand around his neck, her other trailed down to dip teasingly under his trousers to below the waistband of his underwear, urging him closer.

It felt like pressure being released after so long, and pressure that Clarke hadn’t even been all too aware had been building. The pads of Bellamy’s fingers tested out the bumps of her nipples, causing Clarke to buck her hips into his leg wedged between her. 

“Clarke–“ she wrapped her grip around his length, reaching up to kiss the crook of his neck as she took him in her hand. He stifled a moan, kissing her sloppily as “ _ princess _ ” slipped out against her lips. 

“Alright?” Clarke asked as she smiled with faux innocence, fastening her strokes whilst attempting to maintain eye contact with him. Bellamy’s eyes closed with bliss, but Clarke used her free hand to pull his attention (and his mouth) back to her. Two weeks ago, the idea of having Bellamy unravel at her touch in  _ this _ way would have been unfathomable. Not something she would have hated the idea of, necessarily, but an unrealistic wet dream. She needed Raven to pinch her right now and check if this was actually real.

Bellamy’s hands were full with her breasts, the rhythm of his palming alternating as Clarke played around with the speed of which she was working him up. 

“I’m really close,” he panted, breath ghosting her skin, “oh, fuck.”

“That’s okay,” she hummed, letting his moans fall into her mouth as she pushed against him. “Come for me, Bell.” 

“God,” Bellamy’s laugh reverberated against her, and his nails scratched hard down her back, “you have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that.”

She kissed him quietly with an unabashedly smug grin on her face, before whispering “show me,” and not long after prompting him to fall apart in her hand. 

Her back was sore from being abrasively pushed against the tree bark, and from Bellamy’s nails, but all of her senses felt on edge now anyway. Before she could manage another word, he folded his biceps around her waist and pulled her down to the forest floor, kisses following her all the way.

Without any need for guidance, Bellamy goaded her out of her trousers, leaving her almost nude on the fallen foliage. “You deserve to be touched,” his fingers danced dangerously over where her wetness had pooled and soaked her underwear, “like this.” Without warning, he pushed two fingers into her, and Clarke writhed and leaned into him until she had to prop herself up with her elbows to push nearer. 

His fingers curled inside her, making her rise and fall like a contortionist as he sucked bruises on Clarke’s neck that would be hard to conceal later. He  _ wanted _ her to show them off, to have everyone know Clarke wasn’t anyone else’s. She raked her fingers across his back before slipping his shirt off, gripping onto his shoulder blades like handlebars as he brought her closer and closer. Bellamy coaxed her to the edge with whisperings in her ear, of how she was  _ his _ princess,  _ his _ Clarke, even testing out the sweet name  _ baby  _ on his lips.

Her mind was clouding over, comprehensible thought slipping away, but Bellamy kept her afloat. She’d never felt anything as intense or fulfilling as their connection. It wasn’t that her previous sexual partners –  _ Finn  _ – hadn’t touched her in similar ways before, but none had known their way around Clarke’s body like Bellamy seemed to. They moulded together, just  _ knowing  _ how to hit each others sweet spots despite having only ever interacted like this once before. Just the idea of that drove Clarke even crazier as she fell over the height of her climax, collapsing back to the forest floor, her breathing heavy and ragged. 

Bellamy’s eyes refused to leave hers as he leaned over her, held up by his arms.

“I really,  _ really _ , want to take this further, princess. But if we do this, is this it? Would we be,  _ you know, _ starting a...”  _ a family _ .

Clarke chewed her lower lip and rolled her eyes. “I haven’t had the birth control implant removed yet. So, we’re safe.” She traced the line of his jaw with her fingers gently, wishing they could stay in this moment together, away from Camp jaha, forever. Wishing they could forget about the responsibility that starting a family held in reality. 

“And you’re still okay with this?”

Her hand cupped his cheek suddenly, holding their gaze. “Nothing has ever felt more okay than this. Now, I’m only going to ask nicely once, Bell.  _ Please _ , fuck me.”

A laugh slipped from the grin his mouth had been tugged into, “who am I to deny a princess?”    
  


#### 

  
  


They returned from the woods side by side, Clarke’s hair more than a little messed up and a punch drunk smile splayed across Bellamy’s lips. His arm continuously brushed against hers, and all Clarke wanted to do was wrap herself up in him again.

When they got to her cabin, he grabbed her bicep and held her close as to kiss her, long and deep, totally unphased by anyone watching. She got so easily lost in him, her hands on his waist and her tongue against his until Bellamy’s name fell easily from her mouth into his in a quiet moan.

He pulled away, even more smug faced.

Clarke flushed, trying to ground herself back in reality. “First forest sex, now makeouts in front of the whole camp. Exhibitionist, much?”

Bellamy shrugged, “the thrill of the chase is only half the fun.”

“You weren’t exactly chasing me, before.” She cocked a brow dubiously. If Clarke had known about his feelings, she was sure they’d have done what happened today much sooner. Although, only if Clarke had gotten her own shit together and realised her feelings were far more than platonic too. Which she totally would have. Eventually.

“Maybe we just weren’t playing the same game.” He suggested ominously, and Clarke only rolled her eyes before going in for another, shorter kiss. 

“So,” She fiddled with the neckline of his tshirt, “I should go tell my mom about my decision today, right?”  _ What a conversation that would be. _

His exuberant demeanour faltered, and Clarke didn’t miss it. “At some point, yes. Sure.” He nodded, his hands falling on her shoulders, “we should make the most of the birth control implant first, though. If you want to.” 

God, she wanted to. Realistically, she had a week or so before Abby would start getting on her case about her decision. So, hypothetically, a week of Bellamy and Clarke  _ together _ , exploring each other, without the nagging and omnipresent hitch in their coupling. She wanted that more than she had a lot of things.

“Okay. If she asks, I’ll tell her we’re just… testing the waters. Which I guess we actually are.”

Bellamy hardly even looked like he was listening, but nodded regardless. He had a lock of her hair wrapped around his index finger, and an almost dreamy expression on his face. She’d never seen him behave like this; it was scary and exhilarating. It felt like they were already too far gone to go back; their make or break period had been everything leading up to this afternoon.

It scared her. There was so much to consider now. It scared her that she felt this strongly about a man she’d been through hell with, who had been her most trusted friend for nearly three years. It scared her that the idea of starting a family, because she had to, seemed less terrible when it could be with him. Clarke had spent so long dwelling over and hating the prospect of being forced into having a child with someone she didn’t care about that, she’d never really given the idea of having one with someone she actually  _ liked  _ much thought in the midst of her stress. Did that make this better?

“I’m gonna go clean up,” she nodded, pulling away. He already felt so far.

Bellamy gave her an understanding smile before stepping momentarily back into her personal space to place a lingering, soft kiss on her jawline. Once he’d left, Clarke tried not to make it obvious that she was rushing straight to the mechanics bay,

She gave Raven the fright of her life when she barged in, not realising that Raven had precariously placed a trolley full of tools by the door, consequently knocking it everywhere. A collection of curses fell from the mechanics mouth as she dropped what she was doing to help a scrambled looking Clarke pick them all back up again. 

“I assume there’s a reason you’ve just barged in here and fucked my shit up? An explanation for this madness?” she quirked a dark brow impatiently.

“Yeah, sorry, my head’s a bit all over.” 

“Oh, shit. You got your list.” Raven froze, holding a free hand to her head. “Fuck, I forgot. I should’ve been there, I should’ve–”

“Raven, it’s fine.” Clarke resisted the urge to break out into an appreciative smile. “Don’t sweat it. Someone else was there, anyway.”

Her friends expression flickered, gears turning in her mind. “ _ Please _ tell me it was who I hope. Please.” She gestured down at the mess on the floor, “I need a win. I’m so tired, I want good news.”

“Did you know Bellamy was on my list?” was all she asked in response, causing Raven to giddily grin like a child and throw her arms around Clarke, her hands stained with grease and oil. 

“Yes.” Raven nodded, once and assertively. “I didn’t  _ know  _ know, he didn’t tell me. I just put it together, so don’t go accusing me of withholding information because I wasn’t 100% sure. You’re both way more see through than you think you are, and Bellamy’s been wearing his heart on his sleeve a lot recently.” She explained like it was obvious, like it hadn’t taken at least two years for Clarke to put two and two together. “But I’m optimistically and confidently assuming that you chose each other, correct?”

Clarke kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes, “my options are limited, to be honest. I think Bellamy is a better fit than Jasper.”

“ _ Jasper? _ ” Raven’s jaw hilariously dropped with incredulity. “Oh, no, no, no. No. That’s  _ not _ a good match. You and Bellamy are like the final two pieces of our Arcadia jigsaw. God, that sounds lame. You know what I mean. You’re  _ Bellamy and Clarke _ . You just  _ are _ .”

What she was feeling was closest to the sensation of warmth, comforting and all enveloping. “Thanks, Raven. I hope you’re right. I love you, you know that, right?” After all they’d been through and overcome, it was kind of hard not to.

“I love you too, princess.” she grinned knowingly in return, grabbing the blonde for a tight, lung restricting hug. “I’m gonna be godmother, right? Or aunty?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always lemme know what u thought! lots of love to my bellarke sisters <33


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go!!!! here we fuckin go!!!!!!!  
> this part is so much softer than every other part tbh pls appreciate dshsdh i promise the angst is MINIMUM  
> u will feel all the uwus

“You have eternal dibs on the godmother of any children I have.” Clarke laughed breezily, trying to ignore the churn of her stomach at the further thought of having actual children.

Raven grinned, “oh, good. As long as the godfather isn't someone stupid like Murphy. Monty is probably your best bet.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Startled, the pair spun around to meet Abby Griffin, who'd entered the bay without either of them noticing. Clarke stiffened, and she watched Raven’s mouth twitch upwards into an uneasy smile. Raven knew how strained Clarke’s relationship with her mother was at that moment.

“Yes.” Clarke said resolutely at the same time that Raven sighed “no”.

Abby gave them a small nod. The awkward tension in the room had Clarke wanting to hide in one of the nearby cupboards. “I just wanted a word with Clarke, if that's okay, Raven?”

It wasn't really a question up for debate. Raven nodded coolly, muttered a “yep” and exited the room with a wrench still in her hand.

“What, mom?” Clarke was already done with this conversation. She supposed she had to be… what? Grateful? Grateful for having Bellamy on her list? But the whole situation still rubbed Clarke completely the wrong way.

“I just wanted to check on you, honey.”

“You mean check who I chose from my list.”

Abby’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “I'm just concerned about you, Clarke. Lots of people have been upset about the programme but none so stubbornly as you, and you're my  _ daughter _ . I'm just worried.”

“Did you choose who was on my list?” She rebuked Abby’s concern. Clarke was admittedly desperate to know if her and Bellamy was just another set up.

Her mother's brow fell softly. “Clarke, I promise, I did not alter your list. Your results came out exactly as you saw them. I wish you'd believe me-”

Something inside of Clarke stirred almost giddily. If her mom wasn't lying, her list was truly made up of the most compatible people with Clarke. True, the most compatible in a  _ medical _ sense, but Clarke had already really known that her and Bellamy were, well, compatible in other ways. Partners, best friends,  _ lovers _ . 

“Did everything go okay? This morning, I mean.” Her mother then dared to ask.

Clarke’s mind had already wandered back to the warm and hazy memory of Bellamy’s hands exploring her skin. She smiled despite herself, “yeah, mom. Everything went okay.”

  
  
  


Clarke was stood with an absent, blissful mind in the queue for food at lunch time when a hand snaked around her waist, lifting up her tshirt to pinch her bare skin. She whipped around with such force that the person who’d snuck up on her received a hard elbow to the gut.

“Fuck,” Bellamy wheezed through a laugh, “remind me not to do that again.”

“Oh god, I'm sorry.” Clarke resisted a smile as she stared up at him. She really was sorry, but now she found herself unable to even  _ look _ at him without feeling like a child on Christmas. 

“You don't look it.” He cocked a brow at her, “you're gonna have to make it up to me later, princess.”

_ That better be a promise, _ she found herself thinking. Instead, she slipped a hand into his, lacing their fingers together. 

“So you're ready for everyone to know? About us?”

“I think our arrival in camp earlier kind of gave it away already. You know how fast gossip travels here.” And Clarke was right. The people in the queue before and after them were already casting them both a variety of glances, curiosity and disapproval, smiles and frowns. It wasn’t like they were both lowkey figures at Camp Jaha; everyone knew their names and faces.

Bellamy shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “yeah. Also, just forewarning you, but Octavia knows.”

“Octavia knows.” Clarke repeated, slowly and refraining from showing her actual shock.

He nodded and used his free hand to bring Clarke closer. “About us. If that wasn't clear.”

“I got that,” she rolled her eyes, pushing his chest gently. “But how? And why exactly? I didn't think you two were exactly on speaking terms right now.”

His one sided smile said more than she knew he would. The Blake’s sibling relationship was as rocky as ever, and bringing it up usually made Bellamy throw up his walls. “Someone told her and she sought me out. I was honest with her, and she was actually happy about the news.”

Clarke’s eyes went wide. “She was  _ happy _ ?”

“Said it was “a long time coming’ and ‘fucking finally’, to be exact.”

A blush seeped into Clarke’s cheeks. “Jesus Christ. Were we the only ones who didn't see it?”

Bellamy’s expression faltered slightly as his thumb rubbed soft circles in the skin of her hand. 

“What?” Clarke felt a creep of panic. What had she said?

“You know I always saw you, right?” His voice had lowered, as he intended specifically for only Clarke to hear.

Her brows knitted.

“I know I haven't- I haven't always been honest about how I felt, especially how I felt about you. But I've cared about you ever since you wouldn't let me take that band off your wrist. Ever since we went on that day trip. Ever since you proved to be a better leader to our friends than I could ever hope to be.” It suddenly felt claustrophobic between them, as Clarke struggled with the words slipping out of his mouth. “And I've known I've been in love with you ever since we pulled that lever together.”

“You have?” Her voice was so much smaller than she’d intended. Bellamy didn't move, maintaining eye contact. 

“You don't have to say it back right now, Clarke.” His grip on her waist and her hand never loosened.

But she wanted to. Because she knew she'd always felt the same. In the days of life or death and the constant battle for survival, love and romance hadn't even fallen secondary in their priorities, let alone first. The way Clarke had known she cared about Bellamy had caused her heart to ache and her body to yearn. The cycle of stress and relief he’d caused her throughout their turbulent first year on the ground had made Clarke’s head spin.

“Even if I'm in love wih you too?” She managed, certain of herself.

Bellamy's mouth slipped into a smile that made her grip his hand tighter. “I guess you can, in that scenario.”

He reached to meet her lips, kissing her soft and slow, ignoring the wave of murmurs around them.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He whispered against her cheek, playing with the hem of her shirt as discreetly as possible.

Clarke’s stomach knotted excitedly, her body reacting before her mind. “What about lunch?”

He shrugged with such cockiness that Clarke should've known what was coming. “There’s something else I’d much rather taste.”

“You're disgusting.” She grimaced, but her toes curled and her face felt hot and she furiously battled a grin. She hoped to god that no one was listening in, but it was hardly her first care as she pulled Bellamy out of the queue and back towards her cabin.

#### 

  
  


“You think it's time?”

“Hm?” Clarke cocked her head up at Bellamy. She was lay on his chest, their legs entangled, clothes having been discarded much ( _ much _ ) earlier.

His fingers drew patterns on her back and she was reminded of not long ago when Bellamy let Clarke paint on his back. Sat there, straddling his hips and relaxing him with the stroke of her brush, it wasn't long before they'd both become covered in paint.

“Time for, you know, the  _ thing _ .”

Clarke knew he was talking about a baby.

It was coming up on nearly two months since they'd gotten together, and the clock was ticking on how much time Abby could allow for them before they had to  _ actually _ comply with the programme – and not just enjoy the benefits.

She shuffled around, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him properly. He was hard to read, but seemed relaxed enough. “You're ready?”

“Are you?”

“Don't deflect.”

Bellamy shook his head as he smiled, “you're asking me if I'm ready for a future with you?” 

“I'm asking you if you're ready for a hard future with me. A future of late nights with crying babies that cause sleep deprivation and growing old in a world where we probably shouldn't have made it past 20.”

He stroked a loose hair out of her eyes. Bellamy would never stop surprising her with his moments of softness. 

“Sounds okay to me.”

Clarke cocked her head, “be serious, Bell.”

Bellamy sat up on the bed of furs suddenly. “Hey, I am. Why don’t you believe me?”

“It's just… it’s still just hard to wrap my head around. Even now, with you in my bed.”

He nodded silently, messing with their interlocked fingers. 

“I never thought I’d be a good father. I wasn’t even 10 years old when I became the second carer for a child. For practically my whole life, I’ve looked after Octavia, and for half of that I’ve tortured myself over what I could’ve done better. It was my fault she was in lockup. She could’ve  _ died _ . That would’ve been on me. But Clarke, you make me feel so much stronger. You give me so much hope and the prospect of raising a child with you – our child – is fucking  _ exciting _ .”

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she rubbed them with the back of her hand. His moments of honest and vulnerability made her heart and swell, convincing her that this was all so right.

“You’d be an amazing father, Bellamy. That’s never been a doubt in my mind.”

And she really, truly meant it. 

Letting a grin take over his face, he clambered on top of her, trailing kisses from her jaw to her temple. Clarke’s hands found his hair, and she was repeatedly glad she’d convinced him to maintain its length. His hips rocked into her as Clarke shifted to more comfortably take his weight. 

“We can’t start right now, though. You know that, right?”

Bellamy frowned, “why not?”

“I still have the birth control implant, smartass.” No more carefree sex.

His mouth fell into a silent ‘O’ as he fell still above her. Clarke rolled her eyes, pushing his chest back and taking the reins so she could get him on his back. “Tomorrow?” 

The way he kissed her told her that was fine, and the way they fucked was more so.

 

  
  


 

If Jasper spoke to her bump one more time, Clarke was pre-revoking him from all babysitting duties. Her stomach had swollen to about the size of a grapefruit at 23 weeks along. Her clothes didn’t fit, her sleeps were awful, everything was uncomfortable, but  _ Bellamy _ . 

Bellamy had surprised her beyond all expectations.

He was nurturing and supportive, incredibly and fiercely protective even when she  _ really _ didn’t need his defence, and the once terrifying thought of part of him growing slowly inside of her had been replaced by amorous affection and excitement. It was all mad.

Of course there were still anxieties. There were so many pregnant women around camp now, and every time Clarke saw them do something that she wasn’t, she panicked that she was doing everything wrong. Was she eating the right things? Doing the right exercises? Her self doubt had increased tenfold, but Bellamy never failed to instill her with confidence.

It was a particularly hot afternoon, and Clarke lay with her friends on the grass just outside of the main gates of camp. Bellamy was by her side, his hand resting instinctively now on her bump. Raven was on her left, drowsy from the humidity. Monty and Harper were looped around each other across from them, and Clarke hadn’t missed the stares they’d been giving Clarke’s bump recently. She wondered how long before they got their lists, and she hoped they’d get the life with each other they deserved.

“Have you guys thought of names yet?” Raven asked, her eyes half closed as she picked aimlessly at daisies.

“For a girl, I like Iris. For a boy, I like Dante.”

Monty arched his brow at Bellamy. “You aren’t slick, Blake. Your mythology nerd is showing.”

Clarke smiled serenely. Monty was right about Bellamy’s name choices, but she secretly loved them. She loved that Bellamy could still be so passionate about something so long gone, and she loved all the stories he’d recounted to her of ancient heroes and gods. The names themselves were nice, too.

“Clarke?” Harper prompted.

“I haven’t thought about it too much. I like… I like Madi for a girl. Maybe Wells for a boy.”

Their friends nodded silently, understandingly.

“I just hope the baby doesn’t have Bellamy’s feet.” An approaching Octavia cackled, throwing herself down beside them. “I mean, they’re ridiculously huge. I was blessed. Maybe the baby will get the genes I got.”

“I have no idea how you think that will work, O,” Bellamy sighed, “considering we only share half of our DNA.”

Octavia shrugged, “Well, Clarke has good genes. The baby has a 50/50 chance of scoring out.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Bellamy deadpanned, but he wasn’t tense beside Clarke. The Blake’s sibling relationship had warmed up in wake of the pregnancy, and Clarke would go as far as to say she was grateful. Octavia was incredibly excited about the prospect of babysitting and being an aunt, even though both prospects slightly worried Clarke.

Even Clarke’s relationship with her mom had become less strained. Abby was so eager to be a part of Clarke  _ and _ Bellamy’s life, that she’d loosened up enough to let her mom back in. That, and the fact that she knew her mom would be extremely helpful when it came to actually caring for the baby, and Clarke had so much to learn.

It had been a long time since Clarke had really, truly felt this safe. Of course she felt safe around Bellamy, and around her friends. But moments like this felt so  _ warm _ . They felt like summer evenings when there’s a cool breeze and the sun is orange and the birds are softly tweeting. When you’re curled up beside the person you want to spend your life with and surrounded by the people who make you smile and laugh like no others. And she had a  _ family _ . Not only had she found a bigger one among friends who she’d quite literally risked her life for, but she was starting a family. With Bellamy. The thought still made her stomach flutter.

  
  
  


When their baby was born, Clarke could have stayed in that moment forever (maybe minus the pain). Bellamy had never looked more beautiful than when he looked at their daughter. She cried, and she wasn’t afraid to admit it or let anyone see. She cried for the life she’d made and her beyond amazing boyfriend cradling their baby girl. 

 

Maybe Earth could be their paradise after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S IT FOLKS. hope you all enjoyed! feel free to leave a comment and whatnot or hmu on tumblr stacygwehn.tumblr.com etc etc ! thank you for all the lovely comments along the way and sorry for the wait on this last part! lots of love<3

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts, feelings and constructive criticism all welcomed!  
> Catch me on tumblr, stacygwehn.tumblr.com and we can chat or you can shoot me your thoughts if you waaaanttt


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